


Heated Swim

by hoshiko2kokoro (hoshiko2)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2012-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-11 14:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoshiko2/pseuds/hoshiko2kokoro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short stories for the USUK livejournal community's Olympic Event.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Alfred Jones knew there had to have been a mistake when he checked into his room at the Olympic Village. Instead of seeing someone he hardly knew or someone from a different sport, he was shocked to find Arthur Kirkland in the shared room instead. This was the Englishman that the American media had predicted would be Alfred's main rival in the swimming heats. The same man who had almost beat his world record that he had set two years ago. The same man that Alfred was hopelessly in love with.

"What…? What're you doing here?" Alfred asked slowly.

Arthur looked over at the doorway, pausing briefly at seeing the American standing there. "This is the room I was assigned to. I might ask you the same question, but I'm assuming you were assigned here as well?"

Alfred nodded slowly. Arthur sighed and threw his swimsuit back into the suitcase. "Well, we might as well go and ask them to change us. We cannot possibly be in the same room while we compete. This is highly unprofessional."

Alfred felt it come out of his mouth before he could even stop himself. "It's your country that's hosting, so it's their fault."

Arthur shot Alfred a vicious, cold glare. He'd sent it Alfred's way once before when Alfred had celebrated a win over Arthur two years ago. That was when the press knew there was heat between them, and without knowing that, for Alfred, it was a different kind of heat. For Arthur, however, it didn't seem to be that way at all.

"Piss off," Arthur growled.

* * *

The first night, Alfred and his team mates went out to celebrate and to ease their nerves of the upcoming race tomorrow. They weren't drunk, but they were loud. Many of the other athletes complained about losing sleep, but none more than Arthur who sat up in bed when Alfred stumbled into their room, slamming into the wall and blabbering to Arthur about swimming.

"Shut _up_ , you fool!" Arthur snapped. He threw a pillow at Alfred in hopes to silence him, but the American snatched it before it hit his face. Then, he crawled into Arthur's bed. "GET OUT!"

"Oh shush… Just go to bed…"

Arthur kicked and shoved at Alfred, not caring if he was exerting too much energy that he should be saving or if he injured the other athlete. He wanted to sleep. However, Alfred was relentless, and he clung to Arthur like he was a teddy bear. He snuggled close to the Englishman and promptly passed out. Arthur continued to put up a fight, but found it was futile. It was best he just sleep and deal with Alfred in the morning in the swimming pool.

Alfred had other ideas. He awoke in the morning to watch Arthur sleep for just a few minutes. He imagined what it must be like to be such a wildly explosive man who controlled the water so effortlessly. What would it be like to stay by such a man's side? Arthur was well known around the world to have a private life and kept his practices hidden, and while most people wondered about his amazing control of swimming, they also wondered just what kind of person he was. Was he actually very shy or was he bitter, did he have a social phobia or was he just lonely, was he dating anyone or had he called off relationships for good? His secretive nature was what drew him to Alfred.

Arthur began to stir, so Alfred quickly got up, acting as if he hadn't slept curled up beside him the night before. Arthur made no mention of it either, relieved to see Alfred had become serious for their upcoming match. Both silently dressed to go for a swim before breakfast, but left separately. They ignored each other all through-out their practice swims and sat far apart from each other in the cafeteria. Alfred was a bit hurt that Arthur wasn't even going to attempt a friendship between them, but he supposed that could wait until after their meet.

* * *

It was late and Arthur came back to the room first. He slammed the door and fell upon his bed, face down in the pillow, and curled in on himself. He was shaking from anger and didn't care that a silver medal was around his neck. He wanted nothing more than to throw it across the room, preferably right at his American, stupid, gold winning roommate's head.

However, the man didn't come back for some time. He stayed out with his team mates and partied some more. Honestly, didn't that team ever calm down?

Around one was when Arthur got out of bed to take a walk. His mind wouldn't shut up. He had to calm down, and he started that by dumping his silver medal on his bed in disgrace. Halfway down the hall, he ran into the Americans, and Alfred was leading the pack, heading straight for Arthur. He blocked his way with a large arm that Arthur tried to bypass.

"Hey, come back here," Alfred said with a slur to his voice. He put a hand on Arthur's waist and squeezed. "Oh, man, feel those hip bones."

"Let go of me," Arthur said lowly. He was trying to control his temper. Luckily, the rest of the Americans had gone back to their rooms, presumably to annoy their roommates. "Jones, let go."

"Don't be like that." Alfred leaned in to nip at Arthur's ear, tensing the Englishman. "Come on… Live a little."

"We still have five more heats against each other…," Arthur murmured. He resisted giving in. He wouldn't.

Even if he had been in love with Alfred the minute he watched him on T.V. four years ago in Beijing swim his first Olympic heat.

"Let's have some fun," Alfred murmured in his ear.

"You don't even know if I…"

"Don't play that game with me." Alfred pulled his head back to look into Arthur's eyes. "Don't…"

He lifted Arthur, and the swimmer wrapped his legs around Alfred. Their lips crushed against each other too eagerly and their teeth clashed together. But they kept going in a fight for dominance. Arthur's hands sought out that gold medal that was resting on Alfred's chest and tugged on it. He wouldn't let go of it even as he was carried back to their room, laid on his back on Alfred's bed, and they made love late into the night.

* * *

"Alfred! Come on, dude! Let's go!"

Alfred was still in the airport near a window with Arthur close to him. He had his hand wrapped around his hip, stroking it slightly as they had their foreheads pressed together and eyes closed. Arthur was still touching Alfred's medal. He looked pained as they were leaving each other, Alfred going home to America and Arthur staying here in his homeland of England.

"I don't want to go," Alfred murmured. "I can't leave you…"

"We'll meet again in three months. There's a meet here…a rematch between us." Arthur grinned and leaned up to kiss Alfred in a promise. "I love you…"

"I love you too." They kissed one more time, and then Alfred left without looking back. He couldn't bear to see those watery green eyes.

After they had finished their heated swims, the couple became an item during the rest of the Olympics. It was highly publicized, much to Arthur's chagrin, but he took it in stride, as long as Alfred made sweet love to him at night and let him wear his gold medals from time to time.

Alfred's mates watched Alfred walk through security and then glanced back at his boyfriend standing just behind it, staring as Alfred left. Then, one came up to Alfred with a frown.

"When did you give Arthur one your medals?"

Alfred turned sharply and saw Arthur with a cheeky smile holding one up. One of his silvers had been draped around Alfred's neck. He blew a kiss to Alfred and left with a slight skip to his step.

"He was ensuring I come back," Alfred laughed. "Oh, he didn't have to do that…"

"I guess it's always a good idea to have a head start."

* * *

* * *

_Hoshiko2_ 's cents: My qualifying entry for the USUK livejournal community's Olympic event. It lasts for a week, so I will be posting all week.

Also, this helps with the winners for my writing event I had hosted recently. A LOT of readers wanted me to do something with the Olympics, specifically something with swimming and the duo being rivals. So, here we are! Killing two birds with one stone!

Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur watched as he swam through the water, parting it with expert precision and bringing his head back up for air at the exact moment for maximum efficiency to speed down his lane. He knew that despite the loud cheers from the onlookers, he only heard them when his head came up every other stroke. He swam with all his might, legs pumping, arms pushing through the water, but it was all to no avail. Even on his home turf he wasn't better than Alfred. He watched again and again as the American outswam him by four hundredths of a second.

He rewound the video once more. This was all part of his training. He needed to analyze what part of Alfred's style made him win all the time. Was it his kick off the wall when he made the turn around? Was it how much longer his arms were, giving him that much of an advantage with his arm span? Whatever it was, it drone Arthur insane, especially since he and Alfred seemed to in a tentative relationship, if they were to even call it that.

If only he could rewind last night to figure out what had happened, he might be able to concentrate more on his training. As it was, his mind was going back and forth between guilt and excitement. He'd fancied Alfred for four years, but never imagined he'd have shared his body with him in such an intimate act. Last night he'd lost in their first swim meet against each other that constituted a medal, and yet it seemed Arthur had been the real winner when he and Alfred had had incredible sex together. And while that was amazing, it was also terrifying because Alfred was his rival. It could all be some ploy to distract Arthur from getting the gold.

Arthur didn't want to think Alfred would do such an underhanded trick, but he had to consider all of the possibilities. The Olympic Village was already teeming with hormones and rampant sex even out in public. Arthur hated to think Alfred could have possibly been swept up in the chaos of the Olympics rather than having Arthur's best interests at heart.

Shaking his head, he rewound the video once more and told himself to focus. He would win gold!

* * *

Every time Alfred saw Arthur swim, he thought of him as someone from another world. He commanded the water so skillfully, as if he were born of water. It's no wonder he's a world champion and known around the world as one of the best swimmers. So when Alfred had come onto the scene this year, how had he beaten him? Alfred was good, but he wasn't Olympic great; Beijing had attested to this when he barely made it to fifth place. At least, he wasn't until yesterday when he beat the reigning world champ.

It couldn't have been because of me, Alfred thought. There had to be a reason. Arthur was too good to _just_ lose.

Alfred had told himself he would wait to try anything with Arthur until after the swimming competitions were over, but being in London had wound him up and made him too hyped up in the craze of the games. Arthur's very presence intoxicated him. He slipped and had sex with the man he idolized instead of waiting and trying to date him first. Now what was he to do?

If he ignored Arthur, there was a chance his feelings would be misinterpreted, but the same could be true if he continued to pursue Arthur every night. He didn't want Arthur to think he thought lowly of him, and he certainly didn't want Arthur to feel he was being used to distract his chances of obtaining gold. He told himself it would be fine. He would just let things pan out as they came along, and hopefully he'd find the right way to express himself. Right now, he had to focus on the gold.

* * *

Arthur cursed at himself. He was a right fool; one who was madly in love. He breathed out sharply as Alfred's large hands flowed down his entire body. He gasped as a wet tongue licked up his sternum and then jumped to flick one of his already pert nipples. His eyes closed as he focused on Alfred's lips, hands, tongue, and penis as he was mercilessly fucked into his bed, but he also felt something bumping against his chest. It was Alfred's newly acquired gold medal. He'd won again. Arthur tried to ignore it, but every bump was a reminder he had failed.

He grasped it, like he had the night before, and moaned loudly. Alfred responded well to this. He captured Arthur's lips with his own while wrapping a hand around Arthur's leaking cock to stroke him to fruition.

* * *

Damn, Alfred thought. Damnit. I did it again. I said I'd wait, but he's just so fucking beautiful.

Alfred watched Arthur beside him. Arthur was tracing a finger along the gold medal still around Alfred's neck. Arthur had insisted he keep it on while they had sex, and he always held on to it like they were reigns and Alfred was some kind of animal. It was a strange little kink of his, one that Alfred could easily see himself enjoying just as much.

However, those eyes told of a different story. Arthur wanted gold for himself, that much was obvious, but he not only lost, he was also fucked by the winner soon after the event ended. It made Arthur very depressed. Alfred's feelings were easily being misunderstood.

Quickly, he took his medal off and put it around Arthur's neck. The Englishman looked at him with a thick eyebrow raised. Alfred blushed, but was unable to give a proper smile.

"You can wear it… For right now."

Arthur hesitated, but then he took it off. "No. I will win this on my own. I don't want pity."

"I don't pity you," Alfred said.

"Then why do you toy with me so?"

"I don't!" Alfred exclaimed far too loudly for midnight. He put a hand over his mouth. He lowered his voice and said, "I don't. I want to win, but I also want you to win."

"And I will, but by my own skill." His voice had reverted to that of an athlete; serious, forceful, and confident. "Don't you dare _let_ me win."

Alfred smirked. "Not a chance." He then grew serious too. "I'm not toying with you and this isn't some trick to fuck you up. I…I care for you."

Arthur's breath hitched. His eyes said he was careful to not be too trusting of Alfred's words alone. Alfred had the power the make or break him if he took his heart for granted. Of course, Arthur had that too, but there was a good chance Arthur didn't know and/or believe that.

Alfred shifted closer. "I promise you… If and when you win I'll be right there, cheering for you and congratulating you. I won't drop you and forget how I feel."

"How do you feel?" Arthur whispered.

Alfred gulped. Would he be considered strange he said he liked Arthur for two years? "I… It's something intense. It's been there for two years. I saw you on T.V. You were so beautiful in the water and I…I fell for you then."

Arthur's eyes dropped as his blush rose. "I… feel the same. I have since you were in Beijing."

Alfred smiled widely. He kissed Arthur on the lips quickly, and then hugged him tight to his chest. "You're something else, Arthur Kirkland. I dunno what just yet, but you're something else."

Arthur kissed Alfred's collarbone in reply.

* * *

Arthur often thought back to that night. He fiddled with Alfred's gold medal he stole just before they parted ways at the airport. It wasn't just a reassurance to have Alfred see him again, but a promise to himself; a promise that someday he'd win the gold for real.

But really, if he were honest with himself, he'd realize that he really did win.

* * *

* * *

 _Hoshiko2_ 's cents: So, I told a few of you I wouldn't continue the story from last update. Well, I saw the prompt for this round and, well, it kind of, sorta, just, um, happened. LOL! I'll be doing the rest of the event with this AU's storyline, and it will constantly be about the time from the start of the Olympics to the end with switching POVs. I hope you stay around to read more.

I went back and changed the name for the series. See you next time!


	3. Chapter 3

Alfred tiptoed into his bedroom a little later than he had intended to. He glanced at the bed and saw Arthur lying on his back with a pillow over his head. His body was straight and stiff as a board, making Alfred fear for a moment that perhaps Arthur had strangled himself. But Arthur's hand held the silver medal he had just won and he was squeezing it until his knuckles turned white.

He had lost again.

Sighing, Alfred sat on his bed and put a hand on his knee. "Arthur…?"

Arthur said nothing. He didn't acknowledge that Alfred was even touching him. Alfred tried again, but Arthur was still quiet. It was unnerving. Yesterday he had at least been emotional, but today he was too unresponsive. Why wasn't he throwing things or shouting or training or even keeping his distance?

Quickly, Arthur's hand threw his medal onto the ground. Alfred jumped, and then frowned. He bent over to pick it up. "Hey, don't be like that. A lot of other guys would kill to have this."

"I want gold," Arthur mumbled through the fabric. "I just…want to win…"

"You shouldn't see second place as losing," Alfred said. "It's still a win compared to the others."

"It's not what I want."

Alfred was silent a minute. Then, he sighed loudly and lay across Arthur's legs. "I don't want it for you either, but I don't want to lose to anyone, so I can understand that. I want you to beat me, almost more than me, but…"

"Just stop it," Arthur snapped. His voice sounded dangerously close to breaking into real anger any minute now. "I don't _want_ or _need_ your stupid prattling about winners and losers when you're the bloody winner of all of the games!"

Alfred opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it. If he mentioned how the Chinese swimmer had outswam him a few days ago, Arthur would belt him. It had been a qualifying round, and therefore was not a medal contention event.

When Arthur didn't continue on, Alfred decided he'd try a different approach. He'd been nice and sweet up until now. It was time someone lit a fire under Arthur's butt. He grabbed Arthur by the wrist and hauled him up to sitting. Arthur began to protest, but Alfred didn't give him the chance as he dragged him out of the room and down the hallway.

"Where are we going?!" Arthur yelled. The other athletes were staring. It had already been a rumor in the Olympic Village that the duo was more than rivals.

Alfred said nothing. He continued to pull Arthur against his will until they were getting on the bus back to the Olympic Aqua Centre. It was nearing their curfew of when they had to be in bed, one that was set by their coaches. They had quite a rigorous schedule to stick to in the morning. In actuality, they shouldn't be exerting any more energy than was needed.

Arthur leaned over in his seat to hiss in Alfred's ear, "What are we doing?"

Alfred smirked and gave him a quick wink. "Practice."

* * *

The Aquatic Centre was dark when they arrived. Alfred had managed to ask the security guards to let them in because they needed practice as demanded of their coaches. They were allowed as long as someone watched to ensure they didn't damage any part of the pool. Arthur thought it odd to be walking in the large building when it was vacant and so quiet. The stands seemed eerie as they went up higher and higher until they were covered by the poor architectural designed ceiling.

Alfred jogged to the changing room where his clothes were stored in the lockers. Arthur followed slowly, but his eyes skimmed the smooth surface of the water. It was all so perfect, almost like glass. Arthur wondered if he could walk across it right then, but his bones itched to dive right in. When was the last time he'd gone for an old fashioned swim instead of racing back and forth across a pool?

He changed into his tight swim suit and pushed all of his hair up into his swim cap. Alfred did the same beside him. Arthur couldn't resist a quick look at Alfred's crotch, knowing quite well what it looked like having been underneath him two nights in a row now. Still, to see it limp and in the full, bright lights of the changing room brought an all-together new view on the man.

They walked out together, noticing the security guard watching them from the front row, and then stood by the pool. Alfred was holding his and Arthur's iPhone's. He put them on the edge of the pool with the camera facing the water. He had situated them right over the T marker where they were to press their hands at the end of the race.

"All right," Arthur said. "What's going on?"

"We're gonna have a race," Alfred replied. He turned on the camera and set it to record. "Our phones will show who wins. We'll have it go off at the exact same time and then watch it together to see who touches first. Just a simple hundred meters, okay?"

Arthur sighed angrily. "Alfred, this isn't going to work. I don't understand why we are here. We're just going to see how you beat me, again, and then tomorrow we'll race and you'll still beat me."

Alfred winked again. "Maybe. Maybe not. Let's find out."

He jumped into the water, making sure he stayed away from their phones. He waved for Arthur to follow him, and after a long moment, he finally did. When he looked at Alfred with water trickling down his skin and reflecting off his eyes, making them seem an even brighter blue, Arthur remembered when he fell madly for him. He sighed and thought it might not be so bad.

* * *

Alfred rolled into a tight ball as he clung to the ladder. In the lane next to him Arthur had copied him. They were to fling themselves backwards into the water and do a backstroke once around the pool. The security guard called when they were to start, and the two swimmers took off.

The rush of adrenaline kicked Alfred into full gear. He swam like he did during the day, imagining the cheers of his team mates and the fans and the chants of "USA! USA! USA" echoing off of the walls, drowning out anyone else. He thrived on this.

He made the first turn and caught a glimpse of Arthur next to him. He was just slightly behind him, like always. Oh, how Alfred wanted him to win. He wanted to see the true strength of the Englishman that was lurking somewhere inside of Arthur, just waiting to be released. It had been there in the championships this year. Perhaps it just needed a little poke to come back out.

Finally, Alfred felt the wall with his fingers, and then planted his palms against the tiled wall. He heard the clapping from the security guard who probably hadn't seen either athletes perform before. Alfred looked to Arthur, but found the man was scrambling out of the pool to grab the phones. He turned them off at the same time and then held them side by side.

Alfred got out of the pool and joined him. They looked down at the videos as they simultaneously played back the swim. It was just a view of the water rippling and the sounds of their splashing and the applause from the guard, until suddenly fingers appeared in the screen on the phone in Arthur's right hand. A split second later, fingers appeared in the other phone.

Arthur gasped. "This…this is my phone."

He was looking at the phone on the right; the phone that showed the winner. He had won. He truly had beaten Alfred, finally, when it didn't matter and no one could see it. But Arthur saw it and that was exactly what he needed.

"Let's try again, with a different stroke!" He jumped back into the pool with the phones in the same position as before.

Alfred laughed and could only follow along.

They did four more swims before Arthur was satisfied; well, he was more than that. He was practically bursting with joy that he had beaten Alfred at all four swims. They had done 100 meter breast stroke, 100 meter freestyle, and one more 100 meter backstroke. The proof was undeniable. Arthur won each and every one.

They dried and left the Aquatic Centre (after signing autographs for the security guard), and boarded the bus back to the Olympic Village. On the way there, Arthur had been silent and moody. In contrast, Arthur was now a bubble of talkative energy as he continuously watched the videos that showed his fingers touching the wall first. Alfred didn't say anything to discredit the races or bring Arthur's mood down. He had accomplished his mission.

* * *

That night they didn't make love. Instead, they lay side by side on their beds, having pushed them together so that they could comfortably lie next to one another. Arthur was snuggled in Alfred's arms and mumbling about when he first wanted to race.

"I was five," he said sleepily. His hand was caressing Alfred's neckline. "I didn't want to get out of the water. My parents joked I'd turn into a prune and shrivel up. I never believed them. When I was seven I had my first meet, but it wasn't really competitive. Nevertheless, I won."

Alfred smiled. His eyes hadn't left Arthur's face since they left the Aquatic Centre, making Arthur fidgeted when he realized this. The man seemed ready to melt into Arthur's entire being if he could stay wet and happy.

"What of you, dear?" Arthur asked, averting his eyes from those piercing ones. Even in the dark they seemed so invasive. Remember, he thought. You still don't know how far this could go.

"Hm?" Alfred seemed to have blinked out of a trance he didn't know he was in. "Oh. Um. I dunno, I can't remember the exact minute I said I'd swim professionally. I remember seeing the Olympics when I was a kid and being sucked in. I think it was then. I thought they all looked so cool."

Arthur chuckled. "How typical of you."

"What does that mean?" Alfred asked. His smile only widened at hearing Arthur laugh. It was the first time since they had been together.

"It's just sounds like something that you'd do. It's not necessarily a bad thing."

Alfred smirked. "Well, you finally came out tonight."

"How do you mean?"

"I knew you could beat me. Didn't I tell you?" Alfred poked Arthur's nose. "But when it's race time you just get so worked up about beating me, you forget to just swim. I wanted you to remember that. Think back to when you were five. That's how I race. It's like I'm at my first meet all over again and I'm nervous as balls, but so excited to finish I can't stand it."

Arthur laughed loudly this time. He scooted closer to Alfred and kissed his cheek. "You are quite adorable, you know that?"

It was then Arthur figured out just what Alfred was to him. He didn't want to say it, just in case this was all a ruse. Better to protect his heart and hide a secret than reveal it and regret it later. Briefly he wondered if Alfred understood how much of a power he had over him.

"Alfred," Arthur suddenly mumbled. His face felt hot and his heart was loud in his ears, but he wanted to ask anyways. "Will…you…go out with me…?"

"On a date?" Alfred asked. Arthur nodded.

"A-after the races are done. I'd like just one, even if it's our only one."

Alfred took Arthur's hands in his. He kissed his nose and smiled in a deep way Arthur didn't know he could. It so earnest. How could he doubt him?

"Babe, I hope it's not our last. I want to take you _everywhere_!"

Arthur stared at him for a moment, and then began laughing. He felt relief sag his shoulders down away from his ears as if they had been bunched up for months. The weight of this relationship (?) and his swimming ability had eased off of him, just enough. Alfred began laughing as well, but didn't let go of his hand.

* * *

Alfred touched the silver medal on his neck; the one that most certainly was not his. He chuckled to himself, remembering how open Arthur had been that night. He loved that laugh and the way it made Arthur's nose wrinkle just so and his eyebrows lift enough to make them not seem so bushy. Alfred recalled a commenter once joking and saying Arthur might win if he shaved his eyebrows, or at least trimmed them down, but Alfred would have pitched a fit. He loved Arthur's eyebrows.

In reality, though, he loved everything about him. He loved the way he looked in the morning when the sun was a crack across his pale face, the angry way he looked before he'd had his morning tea, how he smiled when it was just them, how he was so determined, and how he never gave up. But the thing that Alfred loved the most was how Arthur looked in the water and how it looked on him.

They were meant for each other; like him and Arthur.

That was why Alfred was boarding his plane bound for England having not been back in four months. He still had a medal to retrieve and a swim to compete in, but mostly, he had arms to be in.

* * *

* * *

 _Hoshiko2_ 's cents: Welp, here's round 2. I know I didn't have to be in this round to move on, but I REALLY needed that extra time for the semi-finals. I have work on that day, so I'll need help. Haha. I hope you all enjoyed it! This day's prompt was aquatics, so we finally got to see the boys in action.


	4. Chapter 4

It's only a date. It's only a date. It's only a date.

Arthur repeated his mantra in his head fifty times before it settled in that he and Alfred Jones, his swimming rival and sort of boyfriend (?), were actually going on a date. But that it was _just_ a date. And yet it was only a date.

He huffed in frustration as his hair wouldn't stay down even with multiple attempts at gel. Like disturbed water, his hair was stayed unruly. Alfred never seemed to mind, but that could have been he was just being polite. This was a date, so he had to look his best. Oh, but this was _just_ a date, so-

"Hey!" Alfred knocked on the doorframe of their shared room. He was wearing jeans and a casual T-shirt, but he still managed to look stunning in a way Arthur never thought he'd be able to achieve. "You ready?"

Arthur nodded slowly as he finished messing with his hair. It truly was a futile attempt, but at least his outfit of a long sleeved white shirt under a green sweater vest and grey slacks made him presentable, or so he told himself. Alfred gave him a once look over and smiled in approval. He held out his hand.

During the swim heats, Arthur and Alfred had been so careful about their tentative relationship. Arthur, a very secretive man by nature, resisted holding his hand, staring for too long, or even giving too high of compliments to the athlete when reporters asked how he felt about losing to the American _once again_. In truth, it wasn't always an act and Arthur genuinely did not want to give Alfred the benefit of the doubt that he was happy with him by holding his hand as they walked back to their room in the Olympic Village after a match, because he never was. This stemmed from the fact that Alfred had beaten Arthur in every competition they had been involved in where they faced one another. Arthur came away with five silvers and Alfred had gained six (one in a meet Arthur was not in).

And now, here they were, on their date and the races were over. Arthur could relax for the rest of his time here. As soon as the games were over Alfred would go home and he would stay here. And they would probably be done as a couple. He knew his heart was on its way to breaking the longer he kept up this charade, so why did he keep going? Because he knew his heart would break later on.

He took Alfred's hand.

They boarded the bus to take them from the Olympic Village to the Olympic Stadium presumably to watch the track and field finals taking place later that night. They sat at the back of the bus holding hands, but sitting far apart with their clasped hands on the seat between them. Arthur was too nervous to sit close, fearing it might give Alfred some thoughts that this would be a good date. It was possible to be a good date, but judging by the fact they were going to another Olympic race, the odds that a dinner and a nice walk in a park happening went out the window.

Arthur felt his hand given a quick squeeze. He looked down at his feet as heat made a pathway up his neck to the tip of his ears. He wasn't sure what to do; should he say something, should he squeeze back, maybe even give him a little smile? It was all too confusing. He didn't want to lead Alfred on to believe that he was enjoying himself already.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alfred watching him with a small smile. There was hesitation there. Was he nervous too? But he won all of the gold medals and shagged his rival nightly and was the golden boy of America. What was he nervous about? For a moment, Arthur thought that just maybe it was the date. Maybe it wasn't _just_ a date to him.

He gave a small squeeze to Alfred's hand, and then squashed the butterflies in his stomach as he saw Alfred smile wider and look out the window, hiding his own blush.

* * *

The stadium roared in cheer as the United Kingdom track runner was announced. He waved to acknowledge the crowd. Then, the next runner was announced. He was American. Alfred screamed in joy, waving an American flag he bought from a kiosk outside. Arthur stood beside him and applauded politely. It probably all meant so little to him to be here at the stadium, but it meant a lot to Alfred to have him there beside him.

Arthur didn't know that Alfred once wanted to be a track star. He loved running almost as much as he loved swimming, but swimming just came to him so much easier. Over time, Alfred developed diabetes from all the sweets and fatty foods he consumed as a child, which prompted his parents to put him on a regiment to lose weight. Running was out of the question as he became too tired and nearly collapsed multiple times. Swimming it was.

He told Arthur this one night when they had sat before their computer, the screen lighting up the dark room as the credits to a movie rolled. They hadn't felt up to sleeping after knowing their races were done, and they hadn't made love either. Alfred just wanted to snuggle and open his heart more to Arthur. He wanted to tell him of his town in Iowa, of his mother's amazing cooking in the summer and only in the summer, and his dad's terrible attempts to fix everything in the house and how his cousin loved to rub it in his face that America lost to Canada in the Vancouver Olympics. He wanted Arthur to see him.

That night as they screamed and jumped up and down together to cheer on the racers, Alfred felt that Arthur was really there and not just there to be there. Not as just a person he kind of dated and occasionally had sex with to celebrate a win, but as someone that wanted to be there. That was a part of him. That could continue to stay in his life if Alfred fought for him.

He looked at Arthur and saw the man looking at him with bright green eyes. Over the roaring crowd, Arthur tried to say something to Alfred, but it was washed away with the cheers. All Alfred could do was watch his lips.

His heart thumped hard in his chest. He swallowed the fear that he had ruined this. That his chance to make this anything meaningful to Arthur and for something after this would be swept up in the current of the Olympic air all because he was too drunk on gold and had to have sex with Arthur multiple times before settling on just _what_ Arthur was to him.

_I love you too!_

* * *

Arthur sat in a chair furthest from the aisle. He looked out the window at the setting sun coloring the sky with violets and pinks. Glancing at his watch he assumed Alfred's flight was late. He'd been a month late anyways. He had promised three months, but it was four. He missed the swim meet that everyone expected him to be at. He never said why.

This was all a mistake, Arthur thought. They kept in contact through a few Skype calls and text messages, but it had been so brief. It was no fault of their own, but the rush that came with the after Olympics. New training schedules, interviews, more interviews, a few swims here and there to stay loose, and then just one more interview. Now, however, it was time for a vacation. Arthur's coach felt it a good enough time, and apparently, so had Alfred's.

That didn't change the fact they hadn't been as close. After their first date they went on another, and another, and another- all to an Olympic match to cheer on their country and fellow athletes, but never on a _real_ date. So of course Arthur would steal that gold medal. If he didn't get any further with Alfred, the least he wanted to do was get at least one true date out of him.

Suddenly, there was a call over the intercom, "Would a Mr. Arthur Kirkland please come to the Lost and Found Kiosk? Something that belongs to you has been returned here."

Arthur smiled to himself, chuckling as he stood. He walked down a long corridor, past the bustling businessmen and crying babies, and through a glass door to a small office with a long, marble counter. There, a lady stood and motioned to what was on the counter. His silver medal.

"You didn't have to call me here to return it," Arthur said, not knowing where Alfred was in the room.

Arms encircled him from behind, causing Arthur to gasp as he felt Alfred's firm chest press up against him. "And you didn't have to take my gold to ensure I'd come back."

"You… didn't come back last month…"

"Plans, baby. I'm sorry. I'm here now."

The lady behind the counter had been polite and given them a few moments alone. Arthur wanted to turn and kiss Alfred, maybe give him a good _whap_ on the head, or just berate him with questions of why and what happened. As it was, however, he just stayed there in Alfred's arms and thought back to that night as they watched track and field events.

It was so loud and Alfred couldn't hear him, but he saw his lips. He knew. And in that moment, Arthur could finally put into words just exactly what he knew.

 _I love you_.

* * *

* * *

 _Hoshiko2_ 's cents: This was a hard one for me. The prompt was track, so I was fumbling about trying to wrangle up an idea. I'm glad this one came to me while watching baseball. Anyways, this is my entry for the semifinals. Sunday is the finals! I hope I can get it done, given how damn busy I'll be that day…


	5. Chapter 5

Alfred loved London. He had never thought much of the city before the Olympics were to be held there, but now it had become his world. He truly enjoyed the weather, even though he was unused to overcast days, but he overlooked this aspect because it all seemed sunny to him. It was a brilliant day whenever he was able to be beside Arthur.

They walked openly now, together with clasped hands and smiles that brightened even the dimmest of days. Before the Olympics, Alfred didn't know the food, the language and culture differences, the history, or, really, anything about England. He knew it was there and America had kicked its butt in the Revolutionary War and then saved them during WWII, but that was the extent of his knowledge, and his desire to care. Now, however, it was almost shameful he didn't know about Arthur's homeland. To fix this, he spent quite some time reading up on the island nation.

"You-!" Arthur choked on his drink as Alfred explained his absence from the race meet a month ago. "You really…took that time to read up on England?! Why?!"

Alfred shrugged nonchalantly, acting as if it wasn't a big deal, but the blush and bouncing leg under the table gave him away. "Well, I didn't want to seem stupid. I know you're a really smart kinda guy, so I wanted to be on par with you. And…it's your country. I don't want to be left out."

Alfred knew Arthur had been touched by his efforts. He showed him as much by all the little things he did that Alfred was so fond of. As the days wore on, however, Alfred noticed Arthur becoming irritated the more he did things for Alfred. Did he think him ungrateful? He showered him with affection and more love than before, but it must not have been enough.

"Sweetheart?" Alfred asked one afternoon. "Are…you okay?"

"What do you mean?"

Arthur was by the stove pouring himself a fresh cup of tea. He was wearing a long sleeved sweater that Alfred had bought him for his birthday a few months back. Alfred learned quite early on that not only did Arthur enjoy sweaters, but he loved oversized ones. He only knew this when he had walked in on him when he was wearing one and the Englishman had curled in on himself with the sweater over his knees and up to his chin. There was a goofy smile on his face Alfred had never seen before.

Either way, Alfred thought he looked adorable all the same. He was watching him carefully, trying not to be distracted by the sweater or the swimmer's legs, and focus on what he wanted to say.

"Um, well…you just seem upset lately. Is something wrong?"

Arthur turned to face him. The steam brought color to his cheeks and steamed his glasses he only wore on rainy days. "No. Not exactly."

"What's the un-exactly part?" Alfred asked slowly.

Arthur hesitated and then sat down at the table. "Darling, I still cannot believe you actually spent months of your training to read about my country. It was such a brilliant and amazing thing, I just feel I cannot ever give you back the same amount of love in return. It's not resentment at you, but more for me that I am unable to do so…"

Alfred grinned widely in relief. "Is that all? Shit, I thought it was way worse. Sweetheart, you don't have to do anything giant to say you love me. So I read a few books and read up on things on Wikipedia. I'm not a better boyfriend than you. You do all these cute little things that make me love you."

Arthur blushed and hid his face partly by the sweater. The brown cotton only accentuated his green eyes all the more. Alfred smiled wider and took Arthur's hand from his cup. "I mean it."

"I just…"

"Hey, shush. I love you."

And all Arthur could do was sigh and smile and consider himself the true winner of the Olympics.

* * *

When Arthur was four years old, his parents took him sailing. He fell into the water and learned the swim, or it was death. His parents feared he would be scarred of water ever since, but it made him stronger. And he craved to go back for more. Sailing and swimming became a whole other thing to him.

There was one aspect of Arthur's life that the media loved to know about, and that was Arthur's hobby of sailing. During his down time of swimming, he would sail the River Thames, and even made an attempt at crossing the Channel. It was always for fun, and he never competed. That was always reserved for swimming.

Arthur recalled the night Alfred told him of his life in Iowa and running through corn fields, and racing his friends down the hill to the school bus and the winner won ice cream from the losers. It was a touching moment, one that let Arthur know this was a relationship that would last and that Alfred was serious.

Alfred did that constantly. He always let Arthur into his heart and showed him he was honest and true, and that he was here to stay. Arthur didn't. He was still so guarded. He was the one to steal the gold to ensure they met again. He was never the first to make a move. It was all always Alfred.

One afternoon in March, Arthur called Alfred to wake him up. It was a waste of time seeing as the swimmer had already been up for two hours and was already finishing his morning practice. The life of an Olympian never ceases.

"Hey sweetheart. What's up? You never call so early." Alfred sounded breathless. Arthur smiled, thinking of the water running down his face and across his laugh lines. Then, he thought of Alfred underneath him, panting for him, and he had to stop his train of thought.

"Hello darling. Are you free to come and visit me soon? I would like to give you something."

"Give me something?" Alfred laughed. "Hey now, what did I say about…"

"Please?" Arthur tried, interrupting Alfred. "It's… It's very important to me."

"Well, gee, when you put it that way. I'll get on a flight by Saturday. Is that good?"

"Perfect, my love. Have a wonderful training."

"I'll call you later. Love ya!"

Arthur hung up the phone and touched the gold medal hanging from his neck. He always wore it around the house when Alfred was away. It was his only source of solace when the feeling of longing became too much. He smiled serenely.

* * *

Alfred came on Sunday afternoon with a large suitcase. He'd be staying at least a week. Sometimes this would drag on to a second week, but only if his coach allowed it. He was still to be training for Rio in four years (now three). Arthur's coach also had to agree, seeing as Arthur was more focused on local swimming matches to come. Nevertheless, they normally could work it out and be together with little difficulty.

Like always, Alfred picked Arthur up in a tight hug, leaned back to have Arthur slightly above him, and kissed him long and hard. The media loved these reunions. Arthur always had Alfred's medal, and they would swap it back as a way of greeting. They found it far more intimate to keep this tradition alive, rather than just a kiss. It was always a promise of return.

"So why did you want to see me so badly?" Alfred asked as they left the airport. He leaned against the window and closed his eyes to regain his balance after having been in the air for so long. "I mean, I'm sure it was because you missed me."

"No, actually, it's something else." Arthur felt Alfred's eyes on him. He smiled, but didn't look at him. "You'll see. Rest up today. We head out tomorrow at dawn."

"Aw, I can't rest until we've had our final ritual." Meaning, until they had sex.

Arthur chuckled. "Of course, darling."

The water was slightly choppy, but the sky was clear. In the distance were grey clouds that Arthur ignored. They wouldn't be out long enough to run into any problems. It would be just a nice and easy sail onto the River Thames to introduce Alfred to the sport. Hopefully he would fall in love with it and he and Alfred would have something new to do together.

They set sail around eight in the morning. Alfred watched from his spot on the boat as Arthur moved fluidly around the boat to open the sail, tug on the lines, and steer them into deeper waters. It was mesmerizing. Arthur had such control of the waters, even with a boat. Alfred sighed in deep admiration of the man. There was so little he couldn't do.

"You're amazing," Alfred said. Arthur looked over with wide eyes. "You really are. I can't believe such a perfect guy like you is with me."

"What are you rambling about?" Arthur sat down to laugh breathlessly. "I am no such thing. I have many flaws. Are you not the Olympic gold medalist and one of the sexiest men alive?"

Alfred didn't react like Arthur thought he would. Instead of the bumbling, fumbling fool he became when complimented from Arthur, he remained the same. He continued to smile at Arthur fondly. It made Arthur uncomfortable. This was for Alfred, not him.

He turned the boat sharply, making Alfred wobble in his seat. The American laughed loudly, and continued to do so until Arthur joined in. "Oh, you're an idiot."

"I know, but what can you do?"

"Love you."

Alfred winked at him. "Now you're talking."

But those dark clouds continued to hover too closely. And sailing stole away something for them both.

* * *

* * *

 _Hoshiko2_ 's cents: Sorry to leave it on a cliffhanger! I wanted to go longer with this, but I had to stop because of time restraints. I hope you liked it! This isn't the last chapter, I assure you! It's just the end of the Olympic Event at Livejournal.

There is one chapter left! ;3


	6. Chapter 6

Arthur stood in a familiar line, waiting when he and his fellow countrymen were to walk out to represent their nation. Four years ago, he had waited with a tight stomach and jumped up and down in excitement at the start of the Rio Olympics. He'd trained for this to be his last Olympics, and his eyes were set forward for the gold more than ever. He'd been younger and wilder and weaker, but now he was older, wiser, and stronger.

Four years ago he'd been with Alfred during these games.

He looked to his feet as a wave of ice pierced down his spine. He tried to not think about the disappointment of the last Olympics. This year would be different, but all for the wrong reasons. His main competitor was out of the race.

He thought back to the headlines of the newspapers and magazines that loved to cover their relationship. They had decided to call them the "Special Relationship of London" and enjoyed comparing them to the countries they hailed from, as if they were literal personification of their homelands.

" _They are the Special Relationship in ultimate form!"_

" _The Special Relationship of the Olympics has emerged!"_

" _The golden boys from America and England are an official item!"_

" _Alfred Jones was admitted to Albion Hospital in England for-"_

Team Great Britain was announced and Arthur had to start walking. His mind was temporarily erased of all the dark and cold nights, that terrifying moment in the water, and the scars on Alfred's face that held him back from the one thing he loved to do. And it was all Arthur's fault.

* * *

Alfred cheered when he heard his nation called, but he screamed when he heard Great Britain announced. He waved both flags, having painted half of his face with the Stars and Stripes and the other side with the Union Flag. His parents jumped up and down beside him, but helped him to sit back down.

"Do you see Arthur?!" he yelled over the crowd.

"Yes, yes, I see him!" his mother shouted back. "I'm zooming in the camera."

"What's his outfit?!" Alfred asked.

"It's not white and gold trim, I can tell you that," Alfred's father laughed. "He looks good, son. He looks good."

Alfred smiled to himself, sitting back in the chair. His mother started to cheer. He jumped right back up. Arthur was waving at them, he knew it. He waved back and waved the flags and blew him kisses. He imagined Arthur doing the same with a flushed face and those green eyes.

"He's waving," his father said. "He can see you."

"I know."

* * *

It had been windy that day. Arthur had ignored the clouds in the distance as he took Alfred out sailing. He wanted to show him a part of his world and prove that he loved him in unspeakable ways. Alfred was laughing and enjoying himself. He dipped his hand in the water, curled his hand into the shape of a cup, and brought it up to splash Arthur.

Arthur laughed loudly. "Oh stop that, you idiot!"

"Haha, never! Not if I get to see that beautiful smile of yours!" Alfred splashed him some more when the wind began to pick up.

"Alfred, sit up. I need to steer the boat."

That was all it took. The wind blew at that precise moment, too hard for Arthur to keep hold of the handle to steer the rudder. His hand slipped and the boat turned sharply. The wind changed direction and the sail moved with it. The metal beam that held the sail swiped across the boat, smacking Alfred right in the face. He fell overboard, splashing into the River Thames, and didn't come back up.

"Alfred!" Arthur screeched. He wasted no time, forgetting his boat and diving in with Olympic precision.

The water was murky, and for a horrifying moment Arthur thought he might lose Alfred. But he peered through his half-way open eyelids and found his boyfriend flailing in the water. Red wisps of blood flowed with the river, coming right from Alfred's face. Arthur hooked an arm around Alfred's waist and pushed up, relying on all the strength he had.

When they broke the surface of the water, Alfred was howling in pain. Arthur pulled him onto the boat. He sailed them back to land quickly, largely in part due to the high wind speed. He couldn't look at Alfred, but he continued to talk to him in hopes of keeping him calm. It didn't work.

"Fuck, it hurts so God damn much. Oh God. Oh fucking hell! Arthur! Fuck! Where are you?! Babe?! I can't see!"

It was four hours later after Alfred had gone through emergency surgery that the doctors told Arthur that Alfred could never see again. His glasses had broken into his eyes, damaging them beyond repair. One even had to be removed by enucleation. The scars on his eyebrows and just below his eyes were the reminders of what had happened to him.

Arthur sat by Alfred's side and wept, even when the Olympian was awake. Alfred knew why and there were no words to comfort him. No kisses to heal the wounds, and no hugs to ease any of this. It had to stay. They had to accept that Alfred was blind.

* * *

At first, Alfred was okay with this fact. He remained positive for everyone and smiled when he heard a whimper from his mother. He held Arthur's hands and never brought up what happened, but Arthur did. Every time he saw Alfred he would begin to apologize profusely and blame himself. After a time, Alfred had had enough.

"Stop," he said sternly. "Stop it right now. I mean it. That's enough."

"But… it's my…"

"No!" Alfred yelled, startling the nurses that were unwrapping the gauze around his head. He reached for Arthur's hand, knowing it was never too far from his. "I mean it. Stop it! You didn't know! It was an accident! I don't blame you! No one does! No one in my family or on my team does, so stop it! Please!"

Alfred knew that he never did. He just never vocalized his guilt anymore. But there would be times his hands hesitated, or he'd take a deep breath when Alfred felt eyes on him. He didn't have to see Arthur's eyes to know it was still deeply imbedded in his mind.

That was what hurt the most. He didn't mind not seeing anything ever again, except for one thing. He would miss Arthur's face and his eyes. In time, his memory of Arthur's face would fade away like an old photograph. His eyes wouldn't be as vivid and green, his smile would lose its luster, and even his eyebrows would thin out in his mind.

So he focused. He kept his wits about him as he focused on keeping every single memory of Arthur in pristine condition. Holding Arthur's hand while he walked and listening to him speak helped because he imagined how he looked as he spoke, as he walked, as he glanced around at the scenery, and the subtle way he'd smile when Alfred said something funny.

He wanted to continue competing. His coach had been extremely hesitant to allow this. At first he protested it because of Alfred's missing eye, but it was fixed when he had an ocular prosthetic transplant. His team mates were good to him during this trying time. They never treated him different and helped his spirit remain up when Arthur was unable to.

Alfred could swim. He had special goggles that never leaked, just in case the chlorine irritated his implant and scars. It was easy to count how many strokes there were before he would reach the wall to turn in the water and push off. He wasn't up to his Olympic speed, not yet, but his coach was too worried to let it continue. Furious, he left his coach to look for a new one, but word had spread about his condition, and not one trainer would pick him up.

Alfred wasn't able to compete anymore.

* * *

Arthur's hands touched the wall first and the stadium erupted into applause. He pumped his fist into air as he screamed in elation. He'd waited four years for his redemption at gold. Now it was his. Looking to the stands, he blew kisses to where he saw his lover jumping up and down again with both flags waving. His mother leaned over to say something, and Alfred then blew kisses back in his general direction.

Two years ago, Arthur told Alfred he would go to Rio, and Alfred was there when he said so.

"I believe in you," he had said. "I know you'll win. You beat me in London, you'll blow everyone else away. I'll be there, watching you."

Arthur had smiled sadly, touching Alfred's face. "How can you say that so easily…? Not many people can when in this condition…"

Alfred had smiled, just as he always did. "Because I've got the memory of you swimming in my head. I know how your arms move. You control the water, babe. You'll be amazing."

When Arthur had finished his interview with BBC, he trotted over to the judges. Alfred's family watched curiously.

"I wonder what he's doing," his mother said. "Is he asking them about his time?"

"No, hon. He can see that on the board," his father replied.

"You only talk to the judges when there's a discrepancy," Alfred said. He tapped his fingers on his knees to keep himself entertained. They had to see the medal ceremony before they could leave to see Arthur. He hated waiting. "But, he won, right? So what's the problem?"

"I don't know," his mother said.

A few moments later, a volunteer for the venue came to Alfred's seat. "Sir, will you come with me?"

"But he can't see," Alfred's mother started.

"I will escort him," the volunteer said kindly. He offered Alfred his arm and helped him down the stairs. "Take your time, sir. I understand."

"I'm fine, really. Thank you. Um, but what's going on?"

"Just a little further."

" _Ladies and gentleman, the nation anthem of the United Kingdom."_

The aquatic center was filled with the music of God Save the Queen. He heard English citizens singing along. The ground under his feet felt different, and they suddenly stopped walking. He strained his ears to listen to the voices coming from around him. It wasn't the stands anymore. Was he on the floor?

"Are we here?" Alfred whispered.

"Just a moment, sir," the volunteer replied. He had a thick Brazilian accent, but his English was still well enough. He sounded like a young man, probably with a clean shave and deep eyes and a nice smile. Alfred liked him. "This way, please."

The cheers started up again as the last note of the anthem climaxed in the hall. He heard clapping near him. The pungent smell of chlorine was heavier here than up at his seats. He could hear the water still trying to settle just off to his left.

"Are we by the pool?" Alfred asked.

"Alfred." It was Arthur. He was right by his side. He pulled Alfred up onto a step. No, it was a podium. "I won this for you, my love."

A heavy medal, a gold medal, was placed around Alfred's neck. The center erupted into louder applause at the act. Arthur took Alfred's hand and raised it up in triumph. He couldn't imagine what it was like. He didn't remember the faces of people celebrating, of his family crying whenever he won, or of the press' cameras clicking away to capture every moment. He only remembered Arthur's face as he smiled and waved.

That was how it was now. He was smiling and waving and his bright eyes were brighter after the race. And that gold medal was his. All Alfred could do was smile and wave.

He was still an Olympian.

* * *

* * *

 _Hoshiko2_ 's cents: The end. Thanks for reading everyone! I'm glad you liked this little story for the Olympic event. I got bronze and this is my torchbearer entry.

If you'd like to follow me on tumblr, my writing journal is 2kokoro. Thank you again!


	7. Epilogue

"We're here today with the Olympian favorites from four years ago, the Special Relationship couple, Alfred Jones and Arthur Kirkland!" The interviewer leaned over to shake hands with both of the athletes. "Thank you so much for joining us!"

"Oh, it's always a pleasure." Arthur smiled kindly. His hand was resting on Alfred's. He would tap the back of his hand when the interviewer moved over to shake his hand or if he needed to look anywhere.

"The swimming meets are over and, wow, Arthur, you really made out this Olympics. Four golds and two silvers. Impressive. Quite a turnaround from London."

Arthur chuckled, but it didn't sound happy. "Yes, well, that would be because my main competitor wasn't able to swim."

The interviewer looked at Alfred in pity. "Yes, and what a show you two would have put on this time."

"Arthur would have still beaten me at some point," Alfred said. He smiled at Arthur beside him, even if he missed and his smile looked a little strained. "He's an amazing swimmer. I just wish I could have seen it happen."

"The first meet, what an incredible show there. Had you planned on giving Alfred your gold on the medal podium?"

Arthur nodded. "If I won, yes. And since I had, I asked the judges if it would be all right to have Alfred come down. They allowed it, and so I rushed to ask the volunteers to bring him down. His parents didn't even know what I was planning."

"Why did you give it to him?"

"Well, because I won it for him. London was Alfred's games. I wanted Rio to be his as well, even if he couldn't get in the water. He's still very much a part of the swimming team for the Americans, and for many other countries. His accident, well… It brought a lot of athletes together to help him."

"Your prosthetic eye was very expensive, and your family didn't have the funds. The American swimming team enlists support from other swimmers to get you the money. How do you react?"

Alfred laughed. "As much as anyone really could. Just, gushing gratitude. Those guys are the best. When I left the team, no one was happy to see me go. And it wasn't just my guys, but it was swimmers from all over, ya know? They really came together to help me. My family, Arthur, and I are all eternally grateful."

"Do you think you can still swim today?"

"Of course! I know how to keep going, and most of the time when I swam during practice before my accident, my eyes were closed. I know when to turn before I hit the wall and how many strokes to get to the other side." He tapped his temple and smirked. "You do it enough times all of your life and you kind of remember these things."

"What happened then?"

"My coach," Alfred said simply. "He didn't want me to. He was worried of all the problems that could happen. If I got chlorine in my eyes, he thought it would bother my fake eye or that the other eye would become irritated or infected. And then there was writing to the ICC to ask for my inclusion into the Olympics. Even the Para-Olympics might have turned me away. I don't blame him now, but I was pretty pissed at first. Now, I understand. It was a hard time for everyone, and he was only looking out for me."

"Have you two grown as a couple since this experience?"

"Yes, I think so," Arthur replied. He squeezed Alfred's hand to gain strength. Whenever there was mention of the accident that cost Alfred his sight, Arthur always became very unstable. "I… Well, it was my fault that Alfred had his accident…"

Alfred cleared his throat loudly in irritation. The interviewer looked at him, confused, but Arthur continued to speak.

"But I was able to rectify this by helping Alfred adjust to the transition. I moved to America to move in with him and his family and would take him with me just on simple chores. It was good for him to get out and get back into doing everyday things, even if he couldn't see. It helped ease the pain."

"Arthur and my parents were great. I mean, just really amazing. I think I'm only able to be here in Rio because of everything they did for me." Alfred leaned over and kissed Arthur's cheek.

"Does that mean you almost didn't come?"

"Yeah…" Alfred shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "I was really mad. I had been barred from any team because of my coach and I fighting, and I didn't want to know who would break my records. Worse, I couldn't even watch as Arthur swam. That was hard for me. I love watching him swim. All I kept thinking about was the London games and how I was there for the opening ceremony, the closing ceremony, and when I would take Arthur to all of the other matches. It was a real downer."

"Was it the same for you, Arthur? Did you almost not come as well?"

Arthur hesitated. He had never said anything of this to Alfred, but he supposed it was a moot point by now. "Yes. For Alfred's sake, I almost stepped down."

"What changed your mind?"

Alfred was frowning by now. Had he been able to see, he probably would have given Arthur a cold stare at learning of this news. Arthur tried to ignore him.

"Well…gold. I still really wanted it. I'm an athlete I want to win. And the more I thought about it, the angrier I became with myself for not going. If I didn't go, Alfred would have been let down. I didn't want that. I wanted to win for him and for me. So I told myself that even if I win only one gold, it would go to Alfred, but I should win two so I can have one for me too."

"How are things now in your relationship?"

Alfred shrugged. "Normal. I mean, we still go on dates and, well, it's awkward when we come home late because my mom gets upset and asks us 100 questions."

"Yes, we're trying to find a place of our own to live."

"What's in store for your future? Marriage?"

Both of the men blushed and began laughing nervously. Arthur looked about ready to get up and leave, but he was still holding Alfred's hand. If he left, he would never hear the end of it from Alfred's parents.

"W-well, it's still illegal in my state, but who knows how long that will last." Alfred rubbed the back of his head. "I dunno. It's kind of a thing we take day by day."

"Do you plan to still swim?" The interviewer asked Arthur.

He shook his head. "No. This was my swan song farewell to the games. I will teach, most likely, as will Alfred. We're planning to open a school in Iowa to help children with disabilities."

"I love kids," Alfred said suddenly. "If we can't have a few of our own, I say we just adopt 'em at a school we run."

Arthur laughed. He wanted to kiss Alfred, but not in front of the camera. He already hated the pictures on tabloids of them sharing an intimate moment. This was _his_ relationship. It was no one else's business to know what Alfred looked like when his eyes were closed in bliss as they kissed.

"Now, we've heard a lot about your family, Alfred, but what of yours, Arthur?"

Arthur tensed up. He remembered everything. The harsh voices, the unforgiving things they said, and the judgmental displeasure of the entire situation. They had always been so kind and loving before, but this was too far. A man with another man wasn't "right" in their book. An Olympian should be an Olympian, according to them. Apparently that didn't mean he could love freely.

"They… They have made it clear how they feel about my decision to move to America and live with Alfred. It is something we do not talk about often."

"Does that mean you don't visit England anymore?"

"Oh, no! We do! Quite often, in fact."

"Yeah, I loved England! We have a lot of good memories there!" Alfred pat Arthur's hand reassuringly. "I still remember when we met."

"Not much is known about it, but can you explain how you two met and what went through your minds?"

"The first thing I thought of was how hot Arthur is!" Arthur choked at this, but Alfred continued. "I mean, I'd seen him on T.V., but oh my God! You just can't understand. Here he was, in our shared room, putting his underwear away and I'm staring at him with my eyes buggin' out. Oh, he was so hot."

"Alfred…," Arthur started, obviously embarrassed. He looked at the interviewer in hopes they'd turn the conversation elsewhere, but the man couldn't get a word in edgewise as Alfred was off talking about it.

"And then he was swimming in the lane next to me and I was freaking out! This guy is amazing to watch! I swear, he commands the water! And he looks good as he does! I mean, yeah, the swim cap makes his eyebrows look bigger, but that's part of his charm. I can remember it all vividly in my head. When I know how Arthur would react to something, I just recall a memory and keep hold of it because it's all I can do. I don't ever want to forget what Arthur looks like."

The interviewer smiled, pleased. "That's so sweet."

"Yeah. I just love Arthur. When we met, I couldn't help the things I said or did. I was overcome by just being near him. I don't want to sound stupid and say it was love at first sight, but man it sure felt it."

"I know it was for me," Arthur said quietly. He felt eyes, both seeing and unseeing, on him, but he was focused on his lap at the moment. "I just… I was in awe of Alfred, and a little intimidated. I think that's why it was so easy for us to… well start off our relationship the way we did. I wouldn't say he pushed me into anything as it was voluntary, but I was certainly…more inclined to go along with any and everything if only to please Alfred and keep him by me for as long as I could."

"Did you fear him leaving you?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes… I mean… He's world famous, attractive, and just…a wonderful man."

"Now you know how I feel!" Alfred laughed.

"Well, it sounds like you two are on track to a long and healthy relationship. I'm sure everyone wishes you luck in your endeavors. The actions here in Rio with you two will surely go down in Olympic history, and everything you've done will certainly not be lost, Alfred. Thank you again for coming to this interview."

"Thank you." Arthur tapped Alfred's hand, and he leaned forward to shake the man's hand.

* * *

"You okay?" Alfred asked later that night. He was lying on his side and running his hands over Arthur's bare form. He just wanted to memorize Arthur the best he could with the pads of his fingertips. It was easier that way to call back up a memory of how pale Arthur's skin was in the moonlight, and how breathtakingly beautiful it could be.

"How do you mean?" Arthur asked slowly. He was tired from the day's events and the end of the Olympics, but he was swimming in a haze of happy emotions leftover from his orgasm a short while ago.

"I mean… That interview wasn't too hard for you?"

Arthur chuckled. "No, my love. It always gets easier to talk about your accident and my family. It's all right."

Alfred smiled. He shifted to lie on his back. Arthur moved to lie across his chest, resting his ear just over his heart. "I can't wait to open our school together and have our own place."

"Yes… It will be amazing."

"We still gotta figure out a name for the school."

"How about the JoKer School of Swimming?" Arthur suggested.

"Joker?"

"Yes, a combination of our last names: Jo-Kir, only it'd look better as Joker since people would be confused with the JoKir aspect."

Alfred thought about it for a minute and then agreed. "All right. I like it. And we'll have our flags hanging and our medals out for display and it'll be great. We can swim together every day."

Arthur sighed happily, forgetting that Alfred was blind and forgetting to blame himself and forgetting how he thought Alfred could ever actually leave him. They no longer had to trade medals to keep promises of a return. This would be their future together despite the heated swims they used to be involved in. The media would leave after a while and they would be alone together to swim and love and be happy.

* * *

* * *

 _Hoshiko2_ 's cents: Man, I had to pick the sappiest ending, huh? Well, in any case, this epilogue was to thank all of my readers for the support for this story. It was quite kind and I really appreciated it.

Also, Joker is the name for USUK in the J-fandom.


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